The Choking Kind
by Satine16
Summary: The expectations of the dead will choke you to death if you aren’t careful.


Title: The Choking Kind 

by: Satine16

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this belong to me, they are all property of Marvel Comics. I'm not doing this for money so please don't sue me.

Chapter 1: On Balconies and Fire Escapes

The night air was biting. It was the start of fall and the end of Indian Summer and one could feel in it the bitter sting of the newly chilled wind. Mary Jane sat perched on her balcony floating on the breeze. Floating was the only thing that ever managed to save her from her reality. Every few nights she would do this: climb out onto the open balcony, perch upon the cement corner and just close her eyes. Feel the wind rustling. Breathe in the crisp inviting night air. Listen to the contemplative silence. From her penthouse apartment the opportunity for such behavior was optimal. John hadn't returned yet, but he would be back soon enough.

Mary strolled back into the vast apartment and padded around in her pajamas. The pale pink satin nightdress clung to her lanky form. Everything about Mary had always seemed overly long. She was about five foot seven but seemed taller at a glance. Her legs, arms, torso, fingers, neck: everything was extended to the maximum possible capacity. Yet she possessed an eerie grace not the assumed oafish imbalance. Like a swan simply glides across the water, she tended to sashay through her surroundings. Her fragility made her seem as tangible as a phantom and as tender as a child. She supposed she had the proper build for a girl aspiring to be an actress: long and slender, with small breasts and hips.

Wandering into the kitchen she poured herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table, her spindly legs folding beneath her on the chair. Carefully she began to sip from her large gray mug with puckered lips. Lips that were overly large. Her mouth was, by no means, unattractively large. The size suited the rest of her face. However, her lips and mouth were immense. It was always a thing of concern for her.

In the back of her mind she was spinning ideas to refine her smile. It was a little crooked. And her bottom teeth were crowded. Not good for headshots. Or for publicity shots. Good thing she bleached them a magnificent white. At least she had a big, white smile.

While her mind raced her slender fingers shot, habitually, to her mouth. She began to nibble on her middle fingernail while she immersed herself in thought. Jetting from the table Mary Jane looked to find the nearest mirror.

Methodically she examined her image within it. Pale snowy skin and small chestnut freckles over her round cheeks and button nose. Large, pool-like green eyes, endlessly round and eternally deep. She ran her fingers through her shoulder length red hair. In this light it seemed to grab hold of every shade from Carrot to Kool-Aid. She had just gotten it cut. Added some bangs. Her hair had always been baby fine, and it took quite a lot of layering to get the volume she wanted each time. The bangs helped the effect.

The sound of a key turning in the door made her jump and her finger nails met her mouth again as a call rang out.

"Hey, Baby Girl! I'm home!"

"I'm in here, John!"

His footsteps pounded their way through the apartment, and to her. In no time, his strong arms were holding her to his broad torso with a firm grasp, and his face was buried in her neck.

"What's wrong, Baby Girl? Aren't you happy to see me?" John looked up and caught Mary's wide eyes with his sparkling brown gaze. A small, perfectly even, smile christened his face and an unreleased laugh settled on his lips. John wore his chestnut hair in a buzz cut, which suited his masculine facial features well. The broad jaw and sharp nose of his face were refined by the cut of his hair. It made him truly look his part.

"Of course, John," a small smile spread slowly across her face and her voice seeped softly from within.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Mary slowly turned to him and wrapped her arms daintily around his neck. Pulling her towards him and holding her firmly against his form, John pressed his eager lips to her malleable, easy ones. It was an impassioned and honest kiss, full of heartfelt zeal and genuine fervor. As John pulled away, he had a smile on his face, and Mary's eyes began to light up. She hated when he left for long periods of time, while John was away her thoughts seemed to get the better of her.

"Welcome home, baby. I missed you," a bright smile beamed across her face.

The sky was a clear, piercing blue color that morning, and the sun shone like a fluorescent bulb high above the city. Peter Parker walked home with a box of Dunkin' Donuts in one hand and a carrier with three coffee cups in the other. The crisp, freshly realized fall air invigorated him, and he took in the scents sounds and essence of the fresh autumn day.

The reserved stone building stood in front of him: a little bit worn down, a little bit old and a little bit quaint. In the end, it was still home. Taking the narrow stairs two at a time, Peter was quickly in his apartment. This too, was a little bit smaller than acceptable for most.

An undersized kitchen stood in the doorway and to the left, which lead into a small living room. This was the entirety of their apartment, except for two small bedrooms, which branched off the small base. The smell of fresh donuts and coffee quickly filled the tiny apartment, and sure enough the door to the bedroom on the right opened up.

"Fresh coffee?"

"Here you go," Peter handed the disheveled man a steaming cup.

He stood in a pair of navy flannel boxers with a bare chest and sloppy dark hair. His dark eyes were muddied over with the remnants of last night, and the daylight seemed to enhance his befuddlement as he debated over which donut to select.

"What's your name?" Peter asked as he cracked open the top of his own coffee cup.

"Frank."

"Nice to meet you, Frank."

A scratchy, tired alto voice emerged from the darkness of the doorway of the bedroom.

"Do I smell coffee?"

"Yes," Peter responded smiling.

"Wonderful," rubbing the sleep form her eyes and feebly tying her red satin robe around her waist Gwen stumbled into the kitchen. Her long, tan legs erupted from the short red robe, which fell from her sturdy shoulders almost revealing too much. Not that she noticed, and even cared. Her shaggy blonde hair was more tousled than usual, and her fringe sat lifelessly across her face.

"Morning, Pete."

"G'morning, Gwen," Peter smirked as he sipped his coffee and shot a glance to their guest.

"How did you know to bring…" she stopped midway and pressed her fingers onto her face, "You heard me again?"

"Yup."

"I've been trying to work on it."

"I know. And I appreciate that. You just have a voice that carries," he chuckled lightly.

"Parker, you always make everything sound so sweet. I'm a screamer. That's the pure and simple truth," she swung her right arm around and punched him on the arm with a smile. Grabbing her pack of Marlboro's with her left and taking her cup of coffee in her right Gwen climbed through the small window in the living room and out onto the fire escape.

Frank walked back out from the bedroom zipping up his jeans and grabbing his cup of coffee from the counter.

"Tell Gwenie thanks for everything."

"Sure, Frank. Will do," Peter rolled his eyes as he closed the door on Frank's heels. With a twist of the lock on the door, Peter headed out to the fire escape with Gwen.

"Gwenie?"

Taking a long drag on her cigarette, Gwen turned to face Peter.

"Is he gone, Peter?"

"Yup."

"Good. Rat Bastard, really," she sniggered, taking another puff of her cigarette and turning to look out at the city skyline. "Why are you so sweet, Peter?" taking in the fresh morning air, extinguishing her cigarette butt, and sipping her cup of coffee Gwen turned and locked eyes with Peter.

For a moment Peter was trapped in her beauty. It was overwhelming. Her caramel colored, shaggy, shoulder length hair had been highlighted with various shades of gold, each radiating in the bright sunlight. Her deeply tanned skin was the color of expensive coffee with little cream, and it looked flawless peeking out from underneath her bright red robe. Gwen had perched herself on the corner of the metal rail, her back straight, and her strong shoulders and large breasts giving her triangular body shape a clear definition. Her long, muscular legs sprouted from within the red satin, the left resting below her on the floor and the right resting bent on the rail.

Gwen's eyes were the magnets, though. They were almond shaped and amber with flecks of brown. Like a tigress. They sparkled in the light and radiated wit while at the same time they seemed to hold secrets of the soul deep within. They were the windows that accentuated her strong face. Her heart shaped jaw and broad chin lead into a long, slender neck and high cheekbones. Her thick blonde eyebrows and straight nose were the easiest signifiers that Gwen looked exactly like her father. Peter simply stared as, with a flick of her thin wrist, Gwen lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"I was just born that way?"

"You meeting up with 'Licia later?"

"Told her I'd pick her up from work."

There was a small moment of silence between the two. Gwen was thinking and Peter was watching her think.

"Do you ever wonder what you Uncle would say if he could see you now?"

"On a daily basis. Do you think about your Dad?"

"Every once and awhile I do. What would the Captain think of his little girl? Most of the time I think he would be disappointed."

"Gwen…"

"The expectations of the dead will choke you to death if you aren't careful, Peter," finishing off her cigarette and coffee Gwen ran a hand quickly through her untamed mane. "Let's go get something to eat."


End file.
